The Callipygian Exposition
by SpaceAnJL
Summary: TPP-verse. Gratuitous fan-service ahoy! This is Jim Parsons' fault for suggesting that Sheldon get ripped. Happy Christmas, Paradox People. :


Gratuitous fan-service ahoy! This is Jim Parsons' fault for suggesting that Sheldon get ripped. Happy Christmas, Paradox People. :)

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The Callipygian Exposition

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She doesn't feel like cuddling this morning, for some reason, slides away and uses the excuse of making breakfast. Swipes a sweatshirt from the laundry, and only realises once she's wearing it that she's courting a strike, by the size of it.

She's got the eggs out, and is dipping the first round of bread, when there's a sudden squawk, and Sheldon catapaults out of the bathroom, clutching a towel around himself, and gibbering about fiendish creatures from the depths of Cirith Ungol.

It's a very small towel. Which means that Penny is seeing rather more of Sheldon Cooper than she might have expected to.

"Calm down, sweetie."

Dark hair plastered flat to his head, eyes wide with panic, shivering with nerves and cold, the tendons on his throat standing out. One arm points dramatically back towards the door, finger quivering.

"There's a spider."

"A spider." Well, that explains why Leonard hasn't come out to see what the noise is about. These guys will bang bits of the Universe together just to see what will happen, but they are both terrified of bugs and crawly things.

He straightens suddenly, and scowls.

"Penny...you're wearing _my_ Ruprecht-Karls-Universitat-Heidelberg sweatshirt."

His expression begins to falter slightly when Penny keeps looking at him. She hitches an eyebrow slightly, and allows her eyes to drift meaningfully down him. He twitches.

"_You're_ wearing a hand-towel, sweetie."

She supposes that the last time she saw his chest, he had been sick, not at his best. She'd been kinda grossed out by the vapo-rub thing and the whole general weirdness of it all. So she certainly hadn't registered that he did actually have pecs, and a flat stomach. And if she'd ever allowed herself to consciously think about what was under those layers of t-shirts, she should have taken into account those long, sinewy forearms, and should have realized that the rest of him would be along the same lines. He's got surprisingly good shoulders, and actual muscles, which with the water running down him...

...woah. Yeah, she has just totally checked him out. And if he doesn't open his mouth and say something Sheldon-y, he's actually kinda...hot. All long and lean, a swimmer's physique.

Runs his long fingers back through his hair, leaves it spiky, and she thinks it suits him.

"Penny, I cannot continue my ablutions with that...that spawn of Ungoliant in there." And suddenly those big blue eyes turn on her. "Please can you remove it? Pleasepleaseplease."

Six foot of semi-muscular naked wet man pleading with her? What is a girl to do?

She takes a step closer, cranes her neck.

Well, who knew? Dr Sheldon Cooper has got a very nice butt.

His look of panic intensifies, and he makes a strangled little noise.

"What are you doing?"

"Peeking." she says, cheerfully.

He nearly loses his grip on the towel.

"Good lord, woman..."

"I'm rescuing you from a spider, Sheldon. Makes me the heroine here." Gives him a meaningful Look, watches the flood of colour in his cheeks. More highly evolved, my ass. Sheldon Cooper is _totally_ a guy.

She knows she should have been mad at him for it, but really, she'd been so surprised that he'd done something normal, however he tried to explain it, that she'd let it go. And she sure as hell tries not to remember how those long fingers had felt on her skin, warm and gentle, when he'd...no, not going there.

She gets a tumbler and a card and prepares to do battle.

He backs up against the wall as she breezes past, still clutching that little towel to himself, and the combination of adult male body and little-boy expression makes her grin.

She enjoys teasing him. And if she's honest with herself, she's enjoying the view. Sure, she's dated a lot of guys who were basically all muscle, and it's kinda like sleeping on a bag of rocks. And while dating a guy who is a sweet little teddy-bear of a man is nice, a girl likes to feel that she could be swept off her feet without the aid of a hoist, and there are actual biceps there...

….Okay. Bad Penny seriously needs to stop thinking about this like right now, because holy crap, this is so beyond wrong, and she seriously needs more coffee, or possibly therapy, if she's checking out Sheldon Cooper, who is arrogant and condescending and thinks he's so much smarter than everyone else in the world (which he pretty much is, but he doesn't need to let everyone know it all the time) and he has no tact and a whole host of tics and obsessions and really weird rules for dealing with the world – who divides their underwear up by days? - and he hates people touching his food (has hand-fed her chocolate), hates to drive, (but he drove for her, those long, strong hands gripping a steering wheel, all knuckles and elbows and wide, scared eyes, too much information coming at him too fast for even his brain to process, why he's so bad at driving, because he can't control all the variables) hates germs (sat in the hospital with her), doesn't touch people (and we're not going there with that thought) and...

He has a sweet smile when he's not trying too hard, but he does try, and he's so endearingly bad at being normal and human. But there is now no way of ignoring that fact that he is a normal guy, under all the dysfunction that passes for his wardrobe.

She can handle the t-shirts, but...she is _so_ going to get that man into a pair of jeans. Seriously.

Turns out to be a large spider, and she doesn't totally blame him for freaking, because she wouldn't want that looking at her while she showered, either. Tips it out of the window.

She pulls the door open, and comes face to...chest with him. Fights a serious urge to pet him (counter-clockwise) but she figures that might actually break his brain.

"The nasty spider is gone, now finish your shower before your goose-bumps get goose-bumps."

"I'll consider rescinding the strike for taking my sweatshirt in light of your eviction of the creature." he says.

So then she can't resist slapping him on that perfectly formed rump, which sends him bolting back into the bathroom faster than he came out of it, yelping about inappropriate touching.

She's still laughing when she goes back to the kitchen, and ditches the now wrecked French toast. Grins. Suddenly, she's got the urge for muffins.


End file.
